Prisoner of Love
by Oilux
Summary: The story of France and Jeanne D'Arc, from the beginning until the end.


__Based off a video on youtube.

I don't own Hetalia, or the plot.

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><p><em>I'm a prisoner of love<em>

_Prisoner of love_

_Just a prisoner of love_

_I'm just a prisoner of love_

_A prisoner of love_

_With a straight face_

_I've told countless lies_

_Laughing_

_In a sick way_

_I've tried my best_

_To avoid _

_Wearisome things_

Francis stood there with a small, almost unnoticeable smile on his face. He listened to his boss go on about wars and England, how he was fighting and how Francis should be trying more. Francis went through this almost every day, and by now he could just sit there and ignore his boss.

Two hours later he was back in his room. With an exhaustive sigh he pulled his hair out of its encasing ponytail, letting it fall down into its natural position. He sat down heavily in a chair, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the sounds of war ringing through his head.

_Asking for things that I lack,_

_I feel blue_

_I keep on_

_Searching for peace_

_I've had enough_

_But I still keep struggling for more_

_And now I'm chasing_

_After the shadow of love_

Francis was sick of this war. He hated it, but he didn't want to just give into England. While on the outside he looked confident, inside he was praying for a miracle. He stared down England from across the battlefield refusing to let his fears show. He kept his face immobile and neutral, refusing to give England the satisfaction of seeing him scared.

Francis delicately picked a flower at his feet, and walked away, letting his soldiers do the fighting for him.

_My dull and dreary life_

_Has suddenly begun to shine_

_Since you appeared_

_On that day_

_Now I can think that I'm alright_

_Even when I'm lonely or in pain_

Then his prayers were answered. She appeared, one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen.

Jeanne D'Arc.

She was praying, something he quickly learned was normal for her. They became friends fast, and she told Francis about how she knew she could save France.

He watched as she cut her beautiful hair and donned armor, ready for a war that he wished didn't exist. Francis didn't know what to think. Either he could let her try, or France would fall to England. He didn't want to see her hurt though.

_I'm just a prisoner of love_

_Just a prisoner of love_

_Prisoner of love_

_I'm a prisoner of love_

_Through spiritless times_

_And cheerful times,_

_On stormy days_

_And sunny days,_

_Lets walk together_

Jeanne was always there to cheer him up, and him for her. You would never see one without the other, it was unheard of. The other soldiers hated having to take orders from her, but after she won her first battle and didn't lose a single man they listened to her.

Jeanne was trying to cheer him up one day and nothing that normally worked would. Out of nowhere a butterfly showed up and landed right on his nose. His expression made her burst out laughing. Francis couldn't resist laughing with her.

They faced storms together. Nothing was ever done without the other.

_I'm gonna tell you the truth_

_I've chosen the hidden, painful path_

_And you came to support me_

_Youre the only one_

_That I can call a friend_

Francis didn't know if he should tell her that he was a country or not. One day, he decided that he had to; he couldn't take lying to her anymore. He showed her the scars on his back, she was shocked, but still accepted him just the way he was.

It wasn't long before she had to go to battle. Francis tried to stop her, grabbing her arm. She looked back worried, but when she saw his worried face she smiled.

"I'll be okay." Then she was gone, and Francis was left staring at the empty space that used to hold her, his hand still warm from the heat of her arm. He watched her walk away, his heart weighed down with worry.

_Fake displays of strength_

_And being greedy_

_Have become meaningless_

_Since you've loved me_

_On that day_

Memories flooded his mind, all of her. He remembered training her, and how one time she fell asleep at her desk while studying war techniques. He couldn't get her out of his head, all he could do was pray that she would come back to him.

_Even when I'm free_

_And have inner strength_

_It's pointless when I'm alone_

He placed a flower in front of a cross, letting the wind blow his hair around his face. She had always liked it better down anyway.

'_Please let her come back to me…'_

_I'm just a prisoner of love_

_Just a prisoner of love_

_Ohhh…_

_Just a bit more_

_Don't you give up_

England was mad beyond belief, a _woman _had beaten him. A _woman._

He didn't care if she was a woman and he was a gentleman. England did not handle defeat well. He shot an arrow, striking her right in her side. She would live, which was just perfect for him.

_Ahhh…_

_I'll never_

_Abandon you_

_Ever_

Francis watched with silent horror, tears pouring down his cheeks. He watched her fall to the ground, her eyes slipping shut.

"Jeanne!" He shouted, trying to get to her. Soldiers held him back.

England came up on his horse and took her, bringing her back to camp with him. Francis fell to his knees, still sobbing.

_If this harsh reality_

_Tries to break us apart_

_It'll just bring us_

_Closer than ever_

England was going to burn her alive. He didn't want to go, but he had to see her one last time. As soon as he saw her, standing proud with her head held high, he fell to his knees. Jeanne saw him, and sent him a smile, even though her death was coming.

_I know that_

_I can keep on going for more_

_And still do my best_

Smoke filled the air, but Jeanne never made a sound, even as the flames licked her skin. Once the flames had finally died down, Francis rushed to where she was, searching through the ashes for one remainder of her. There was nothing but ashes.

His hand brushed something hard. He eagerly grasped at it, his hands closing around a tiny gold cross, the same one that Jeanne had been wearing. More tears fell down his cheeks as he looked towards the sky, silently asking God how he could let this happen.

_I'm just a prisoner of love_

_Just a prisoner of love_

_My ordinary life_

_Has suddenly began to shine_

_Since that day_

_You stole my heart_

Memories poured through his head once again. He remembered trying to teach her how to read and write, how she would show her progress with eagerness, how they would go and have picnics together, the time she accidently burned the food and he ate it without noticing until it was too late. One memory stood out the most though, the first time they said 'I love you'. It had been on one of those many picnics, he had told her and put a flower in her hair; she looked so surprised but so happy. She said it back with a smile.

_J'taime_

Hearing those words from her made him the happiest man alive.

_I felt that I could deal_

_With loneliness and pain_

_I'm just a prisoner of love_

_Just a prisoner of love_

Even now, still sitting in her ashes, Francis smiled at the memory. He put on her cross, letting the still warm metal warm his skin. As he walked away, he swore he say Jeanne standing next to him, smiling.

_Stay with me_

_Stay with me_

_My baby_

_Say you love me_

England stood in the graveyard. Staring down at Jeanne's grave. Francis had gathered all the ashes, giving her a permanent resting place. England looked down in remorse, wondering if he had gone too far. Francis just wasn't the same anymore.

There was a hand on his shoulder, but when he looked there was no one there.

_Stay with me_

_Stay with me_

_Don't leave me alone_

_Stay with me_

_Stay with me_

_My baby_

_Say you love me_

_Stay with me _

_Stay with me…_

To this day, Francis still wears her cross around his neck. He hasn't taken it off once.


End file.
